


All of Me

by EnvelopedThoughts



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Lemon Cakes, One Shot, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-14 00:30:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7144832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnvelopedThoughts/pseuds/EnvelopedThoughts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hypothetical fic with Jon/Sansa finding out about R+L=J. Leads to things. I dare say no more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All of Me

“Do you believe it?” She asked, setting her stein down on the table.

“Yes… erm, I mean no… I mean…” Jon struggled for the words. She stood there staring at him with such cool intensity. She had a talent for being calm and composed if she put her mind to it, but her piercing blue eyes betrayed her sense of ease.

“Perhaps I should ask do you want to believe it?” There was nothing Jon could say that would sound true and make him also appear honorable. He was outraged at the thought of Ned Stark not being his true father. And he was a Targaryen of all things. Something broke deep within him when the thought dawned on him yesterday. He belonged to the North, and Winterfell was the only place he longed to be now that Sansa was there.

“I don’t know, Sansa.” He didn’t mean to come across so frustrated, but her demanding presence and that look in her eye made it hard to focus on what the precise right thing to say to her was. He couldn’t gauge her intent on the question. She had called him brother for months now. They had fought together and had won the North back. Even though he knew her lips and her embrace, there was a part of him that still felt she needed him to be her brother, so he tried to reserve himself as that at all cost.

Sansa sat at the table and looked at the fire. Jon watched the red flames illuminate her jewel-toned eyes and highlight the gold in her bountiful auburn hair. She sat there for a while, thinking carefully. She planned all her moves carefully, tactfully, but even she remained at a loss.

Only hours ago they were in the Great Hall. Bran had arrived the day before with the once great Benjen Stark. His heart broke for the both of them. The two of them delivered Jon the news in private.

He refused to accept it at first. He told them that even if it were true, he wouldn’t like to make it known. Then at the feast for his return, Bran announced the news in a shocking toast before the world. The Northerners had begun to cheer for whom they presumed should be the King of Westeros. Jon stood up at once, dumb struck and outraged by Bran’s sudden public revelation. He immediately fell dizzy as he stood above the people who had begun to chant “King Jon.”

His eyes instantly found Sansa standing amidst of the crowd, hands fidgeting in front of her in her Sansa manner, frozen. Her mouth was slightly agape and she didn’t appear to be blinking. The room slowed and smeared around them. Only he and Sansa seemed to exist in real time.

“I’m so sorry." He said, collecting himself "I don’t know how to feel. I don’t know how I should feel.” The statement he had been trying to make came out a lot simpler than he had expected.

“Me neither.” Sansa said, her eyes still on the fire. “I suppose it’s true.”

“What makes you say that?” Jon said, taking the chair to sit across from her at the small table.

“What makes you doubt it?.”

Jon was struggling. If anything, he wanted to use this reason to take that beautiful fire kissed girl in his arms and convince her to let herself be his.

It was what he fought for. In those few frightened moments in the midst of battle, he was sure he would die again. He could only wonder what would happen to Sansa.

No, no, not Sansa. He had to survive for her. He refused to die, just like he had promised her. The men were crowding together. All he saw was snow and dirt and skin and blood.

It was hopeless. They had lost- until Sansa rode in with the Knights of the Vale. She had refused to let him die as well, it seemed.

But now she sat there, and he couldn’t go near her, he trembled to think of touching her. She had been his sister, for Gods sakes. Cousin now- she is my cousin now. But her parents- his father. Ned. Ned was HIS father. No amount of blood between human beings would change that. Sansa was his sister then, in some respect, forever, and surely she must know this.

“You will always be my sister.” Sansa winced, furrowed her brow and directed it at Jon.

“Really?” She whispered. Stupid Jon. Stupid.

“Well, what do you want me to say?" Sansa turned away from him again.

“That’s not how it works.”

“How does it work then? Because I have no idea.”

“I don’t know- whatever you want to say. I suppose you’ve said it. I am your sister. You are my brother. I suppose that will always be true.” She stood abruptly. “Good night, Jon Targaryen.” Her face avoided his eyes as she moved around the table. Jon grabbed hold of her arm before she passed him.

“What do you want me to be?” He asked her as his eyes trailed up her long arm to find her face. Her sapphire eyes had fresh tears in them. Her cheeks bloomed a deep red color that spread to her neck. How he longed to kiss those tears away and feel the heat radiate off her porcelain skin. He stood up in front of her.

“Hey…” He removed his leather glove from his hand to stroke a stray tear that had trickled down her cheek, instantly regretting touching her so intimately with his calloused skin. As soon as he had removed his hand, however, she had caught his lips between hers.

He pulled back. “Sansa…” he half groaned.

“Do you not want me?” She said, fighting back more tears. “Because I thought…”

“Of course I want you. You must know that by now. It’s just… Father… your mother…” She laced her long thin fingers into his hair, nails grazing the scalp. It was like a curse. All other reasoning faded away with the rest of his mind as he divulged in her, tongue diving into her mouth, longing to kiss her deeper than he ever had.

“They are not here, Jon.” She whispered to him as he moved his face to breathe in the scent at her neck. “No one is stopping you.” She said. He bit down on her skin for the fist time, eliciting the sweetest gasp. He kissed the spot gently, hoping in his desperation he hadn’t hurt her. “Take me, Jon. Please.” He barely heard her say.

No one could pull him away from her except her in that moment. He had gone through hell for her. She had arrived at Castle Black shortly after his resurrection, so he had been woken from the dead, it seemed, to serve her. She was his the only one who could pull him from his terror only to face more terror.

For her, and only for her.

All roads were leading back to her. All of his hopeless longings to be with her, be close to her, to become a part of her were beginning to see the light. Now it appeared he had everything, and gods damn him, if this was her desire, he couldn’t let the ghost of her parents frighten him away. He was sworn to her service from the minute he saw her again, therefore he couldn’t refuse her anything. That reasoning, he decided, was abundantly true.

He pushed her against his door with full intentions on taking her as she had pleaded. He latched it shut and dropped the lock. He then placed himself in the hinge of her pelvis and wrapped her legs around his torso, lifting her against the heavy wood, never breaking contact with her mouth. The kisses grew wetter and more desperate. His hand ran up her neck to hold the back of her head while his other arm wrapped around her waist.

She was so soft and warm as he grinded against her. She was all the life he needed to feel complete again. He wasn’t a shell of a human when he had her with him. Targaryen or not, she was his fire and she was his blood.

“Jon...” She murmured.

“Have I hurt you? Do you wish to stop?” Her eyes fluttered open.

“Gods no. I was just saying your name.”

“Oh,” he smiled up to her “Sansa.” He said, looking up. She giggled. Gods have mercy, this girl.

Sansa then dropped to her feet to undo her attire. Jon stood breathlessly. She moved fast, heavy garments falling to the floor, until she eventually stood there in only her slip. He felt her tremble as his hands moved to her shoulders to pull the fabric from them. He stopped.

“We don’t have to.” It was painful to say, but he knew he must say it. “With all you’ve been through...” Her hands crossed her chest and fell upon his, helping him push down the remainder of the clothing. She removed her smallclothes afterwards and stepped forward into the light of the fire so he could see her.

And Gods, could he see her.

“Sansa.” He breathed. He wanted to say she was everything. She was life and she was death. She was ice and she was fire. She was perfect. He wanted to tell her no other sight was lovelier. He wanted to tell her nothing left him as breathless as her in her purest form. All he could manage was her name. It seemed to say it all, he thought. “Sansa.”

“It’s your turn.” She said, smirking.

Time didn’t seem to move slowly from that point on. He mindlessly stripped himself to his small clothes and was kissing down her neck. He wrapped his arms around her long torso and lifted her from her waist to carry her to the bed, ravishing her like the queen she was when they fell atop it.

He continued where he left off and kissed down her flushed chest. Strands of red hair clung to the sweat on her skin. It was a sight he knew would never leave him. His hands ran up the sides of her thighs to her waist then to her ribcage. He slowed down and stared at her breasts for a moment, taking one in his hand and grazing over it with his thumb. Sansa let out another gasp that lit the nerves beneath his skin on fire.

"You are perfect." He said. He was never much of a poet, but he could sing songs forever about the blush that adorned her gorgeous face at his simple statement. He leaned down and took as much of her breast into his mouth as he could, slowly coming upwards and clamping down until the nipple was between his teeth. She let out a exasperated groan and he felt his stomach boil, his cock begging not to be neglected.

He continued his ministrations. He was surprised at how easily she responded to him. He needed no calculations. He need not size her up. He could let his passions run rampant.

He continued sucking the tip of her nipple while his hand found the other one. It wasn’t long before she arched and he took the other breast in his mouth, guiding her body from the small of her back.

He sucked gently at first, ever so often nibbling the tip. Then he couldn’t help his hungry mouth. He sucked more powerfully; being rewarded all the while by the erotic sounds she was making. He rolled each nipple once more between his tongue and teeth before continuing his decent down her body.

His mouth trailed sloppy kisses down her belly to the top of her sex.

“Jon?”

He ignored her for now, moving himself between her legs as he snaked his hands between her upper thighs. He gently pulled them apart, his thumbs pressing into the soft flesh beneath her glistening folds.

"You're so wet, sweet Sansa, was this your intention the entire evening?" She looked to the ceiling and blushed fervently. He studied her entire form.

“Jon?” He looked up to find her eyes. She didn’t say anything. He held her gaze as he leaned in and took one firm, agonizingly long lick from bottom to top. She dropped her head to the pillow and arched her back.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Yes! No! I don’t know.” He grinned at her before finding her clit with his lips. He sucked at it lightly before reaching up press it with his fingers. She tasted like Sansa would- like milk and honey with a hint of salt and ripe citrus. Her moans spurred him on. His fingers worked at the folds before he pressed one into her center. He removed it fully and began shallowly pumping into her, his tongue swirling around her nub.

Her hands subconsciously clutched his hair. His name was on her lips. He added another finger and moved faster. He then replaced them with his tongue, plunging it as deep inside of her as he could reach. It was all he could do to savor every bit of her. Probe her until she became undone. Her hips rose to meet his mouth, so he grasped her backside, fingers sinking into the supple flesh, as he he held her to his mouth tightly, her hips still desperately trying to move with him.

His fingers and tongue worked expertly, trading places to find all the hidden crevices of her. He devoured her sex with a starvation. He wanted to please her as much as she pleased him. She could barely speak now. Her words came out in gasps and whispers. He knew she was getting close. Tears escaped her eyes. Jon moved up her body, fingers still engorged in her folds.

“Are you alright sweetling?” She didn’t answer. Her mouth was slacked open, desperate for a release. "You taste so good, so sweet... Sweet sweet Sansa." He kissed and nipped at her long and regal neck. His fingers curled upwards into her. “Just imagine that it’s me in there.” He whispered into her ear. “All of me.” She gasped. “Do you like the feel of my hands?” He used his thumb to circle the tender piece of flesh, the length of his fingers now moving in and out of her. “Can you imagine it my Lady? You and me? My cock buried inside your beautiful body.”

Sansa stiffened, letting out a chocked cry. He moved down to her sex again, yanking her thighs apart as far as they would go, fingers nearly puncturing the flesh, and tongued her forcefully for a few moments, up and down her sex then in and out, until she came again. Her body shook and rocked uncontrollably into his mouth, her fingers pulling on his curls. He lapped up her nectar, surprised by his own boldness.

Jon crawled back up and kissed her deeply, his hand stroking her face, fingers tangling into her hair. She swirled her tongue inside his mouth.

“That was… that was…” Sansa didn’t have the words.

“Shh… Sansa… my sweet Sansa.” He whispered into her hair. “You need not say anything, love.” They lied there for a few moments.

 

“Did you mean what you said?”

“All of it.”

“Do you love me?”

“What do you think? I’m only utterly obsessed.” Sansa laughed.

“It may interest you to know that I love you too.” His heart stopped beating for a second. He hadn’t thought of it. His love for her came so easy and involuntarily. It made sense now that she loved him back, but still, in the heat of the moment, he hadn’t considered it. He felt a rush of warmth set over him that he couldn’t describe. He was full of love and content and desire and also- regret.

Regret because he was supposed to be the one protecting her on behalf of his father. He had seen death, and for some reason the memory of it made him more terrified of ghosts. There was nothing there though… There was nothing there…

“You didn't take me yet.”

“I thought I did.”

“No, that wasn’t what that was. Take what you want. Take what is yours.” He leaned over her and locked eyes.

“It is not mine. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Yes it is. You said you would give me everything.” He thought for a moment. He had said that.

“Sansa, there is no going back once it begins. I worry I’ll hurt you, or frighten you, especially with what you’ve been through…” He had carefully maneuvered around her bruises and scars, most of which were healed now and only the mark remained, but there were still a few he worried about. “I surprise myself. I lose all control around you.”

“Good.” She grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him into another kiss. “Me too.” He fisted the sheets with one hand, his other held her head to his. He felt one hand over his covered groin. He gasped loudly. “Do you want me to stop?” She asked. He didn’t answer. She smiled unabashed and began to free his painfully erect cock from its confines.

“You’re the perfect one.” She said after he was fully revealed to her. Her eyes drank him in with wonder and amusement. He felt like that shy boy who couldn’t talk to girls before he left for the Night’s Watch.

“I doubt the Seven Kingdoms would agree with you as they would with me.”

She straddled his hips and slowly lowered herself onto him. Their breaths hitched together when his cock made contact with her now swollen flesh.

Seconds slowed to a crawl until he was fully sheathed inside of her. They didn’t move. The shock set, the significance of the moment overwhelming. They fit together stunningly.

He had dreamed this all before, but he couldn’t possibly imagine this feeling of euphoria that washed over him. The reality was sweeter than the dream.

They stared at each other for a few moments, eyes wide and breathing heavily, until his hips bucked abruptly and without permission. She let out a high-pitched squeal.

“I’m sorry, are you okay?” She leaned over and kissed him as her hips began to rock into his in slow deliberate strokes.

“Stop worrying about me.” She whispered huskily into the skin at his temple. She rose up again and began to move faster, up and down. He couldn't close his eyes on her.

She was a sight before him. Her hair, wavy from being held in braids all day, now in disarray falling and clinging over her neck and shoulders. She was honey and milk with ice blue eyes and fire kissed hair. Her supple breasts and pink nipples were oh so- Sansa. The way they flushed and heaved, both demure and erotic. He reached for them, stroking the sensitive peak with his thumbs, as he sighed her name.

She was a girl and she was a woman. But most of all she was sweet, his sweet. Her mouth was parted slightly, the color of it matching the flush that graced her cheeks, her chest, her shoulders, and the tips of her breasts. Her eyes were shutting tightly and opening to look at him, gauging his reaction. She shouldn’t worry about him either.

He would do as he was told now, pulling her to him and flipping them over so that he could pour into her all he had to give, and so he could take all of her in return. Her legs wrapped around his torso, pressing him into her with her heels. He fought the resistance, unsheathing himself fully to crash back into her with full force. She squealed again.

Soon he lost any remnants of planning or calculation. He could only give her everything- all of his longings for her, all of his passion, and all of his love. He belonged to her from the moment she breathed, it simply took all this time to realize it.

She gave it back too. Her hips rose to meet his, her hands running up the crevices of his chest. Her movements clumsy and inexperienced, but still so tantalizing in her need. Each thrust pushed deeper and was met with a sharp gasp. With the way her breasts moved to his rhythm, it was all he could do to focus on his actions and keep his release at bay.

They moved frantically against each other, becoming more and more erratic every time he dove back into her. It was as if this were the only time in the world they had to be like this together. Jon thought maybe it was, but finally... finally decided to let go of himself and his ghosts. He was hers and she was his. This must be how it was supposed to be.

“Look at me.” He said. She opened her eyes. There seemed to be an entire ocean within them, one in which he was surely drowning.

“Jon.” She said, brushing the curls from his forehead. He got up on his knees and held her lower half up from her supple bottom, thrusting into her with more intent.

“You belong to me now, you understand?”

He lifted her slightly higher so he could thrust upwards into her. This seemed to be the spot. The cries she sang would echo in these halls for as long as he lived.

“I belong to you.” She whispered with a smile. “You belong to me, you mean. I think I’ve belonged to you since the moment I found you.” He picked up the pace even more, thrusting in her from different angles to illicit the sweetest sounds from her mouth. He lost his intent again, moving as far as he could manage inside of her. Finding all the places he could attempt to go further. Wanting to feel all that he could. “I only-Ahh, Jon…. I only didn’t want to get us killed.” Her words were shocking. “I think…” She squealed again, “I think I would have loved you regardless of what your last name was.” That undid him.

Waves were crashing over his head, the salt water filling his lungs. The audacity of her words aroused him and conflicted him as he felt his release approach without much warning. She was panting his name. He pulled out from her, replacing his fingers before she could protest, and emptied himself on the sheets between her legs. She was bucking wildly again against his hand, her nectar pouring out onto the both of them.

“Jon, oh Jon.” Her voice was soft, breathless, and full of love and acceptance. It was the most he had ever felt like he belonged anywhere, here with her. Sansa. His Sansa. He collapsed to her side and pulled her to his chest, fingers stroking her long luxurious hair.

“I want to be everything for you.” He said after the sea had calmed.

“You already are.”

“What you said…”

“I meant it.”

“That’s… that’s…”

“It doesn’t matter what that is. I loved you and would have loved you forever. It was a blessing that we ended up being cousins. It's clear we belong together.”

“Your mother would slit my throat. And Father…”

“Father loves you. I think father would agree we deserve some happiness, don’t you think, my love?”

“My love-” He had no arguments left for her. She had taken all the words for the evening. “Sansa, my sweet Sansa" was all he could say as his eyelids grew heavy. The fire in her hair became dim as he began to dream of Lemon cakes and music and stories and sewing. Everything Sansa was now with him.

He hoped she wouldn’t dream of death. He hoped she would dream of first snowfall and practice swordplay and his direwolf, things she loved.

But he had given her everything. He hoped she wouldn’t fear the ghosts.

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first explicit fanfic. I was inspired by all of you writers. You're beautiful. Please accept this as a token of my appreciation. 
> 
> -Jonsa forever.-


End file.
